A Conclusive Alibi
by B A Cucumber
Summary: There's a clue everyone has missed - I do not own these characters. They belong entirely to A.C. Doyle and the latest BBC "Sherlock". N E W chapters up.
1. Chapter 1

High on adrenaline, Sherlock Holmes slammed the front door behind him and cast off his scarf. Glancing at his watch he shouted for his flat mate. Then he quickly put his coat on the rack and covered it with a green parka. His jacket went on the hand-railing, his shoes were taken off whilst he jumped up the stairs taking two or three steps at a time in his ascent.

"_John_?" he bellowed again clutching onto his shoes unto the first floor where he dumped them on a pile of trainers and worn-outs. Sleeves uncuffed he started unbuttoning his shirt ignoring John who stared at him from his armchair by the fireplace. "_Need you upstairs, John_" Sherlock shouted dropping his shirt on the stairs and discarding his belt, "_**NOW**_!" John got up and followed. "_And leave that jumper_!" Puzzled, John took off his jumper and placed it on the railing. Then he rushed after his flat mate who – to his surprise – was upsetting the covers of _his_ bed – only wearing a pair of black underpants. Contemplating the mess he had just made ever so briefly, Sherlock looked at his watch again and gave a small yelp, "_Your shirt_! _Off_!"

"_What_?" John stared. "You _heard_ me!"

"_Why_?" Although unnerved, John started undoing the buttons of his shirt, wondering what Sherlock was up to, when the detective skillfully unzipped him and stripped him of his trousers.

"No time to explain. _Hurry up_!" Sherlock hissed and then tore the other man's shirt off. Wrestling John out of his t-shirt, Sherlock promised to buy him new clothes. Then he pushed the sturdier man towards the bed and coaxed him into falling on top of himself.

"Sherlock," John managed quite shocked.

"John," said Sherlock rather unemotionally before struggling against John's weight and claiming the top position, "_Trust me_". Lying still he listened. _Yes_. That was the front door. _Four minutes. Corridor. Stairs. Landing. Study_. _Three and a half_.

"Sher-" John began but was silenced by a kiss so forceful and violent it took John's breath away. He moaned as he felt the younger man press into him and he tried to push away the fact that he was _not_ trying to push Sherlock away but that he was getting turned on by this. _Him_. _Sherlock_. This was wrong, but it felt so- _God, yes_. Sherlock rubbed against him and John reached out for the other body. He toyed Sherlock's waistband and finally maneuvered one hand inside the young man's pants. Sherlock flinched. He had not seen _this_ coming. He had expected John to be more reluctant. Yet, here he was gently caressing his underbelly. Sherlock arched back a little, "_Don't_-," but John had already found what he had been feeling for. Or rather he had not. Sherlock shifted abruptly and blushed, cursing himself for not having thought this through properly, _obviously_. His mind raced as he was trying to think of a way out. This _had_ gone out of hand. _Never_ had John been to find out. _Especially not like this_. Sherlock wanted to run and hide, but for some unknown reason, John held him firmly in place and hissed, "Don't you _dare_". Sherlock averted his eyes from his friend. Surely the doctor was disgusted. He expected an explanation. But Sherlock had none. He could think of nothing to say. Except, "I'm sorry. _I_. Should have _warned you_. This. _I'm not_. I mean I _am_. There is no-," he stammered and still tried to move off, but John kept him back whispering, "Don't you dare pull back _now_. It's. _Alright_". The younger man gulped and felt tears welling up behind his eyes. John _didn't_ mind. A massive weight seemed to be lifted off him. Incredulous, he gave in to John, who claimed possession of those lips again and began exploring, stroking, teasing, groping, _verifying_ until he felt Sherlock push into his touch. _No hair_, John registered with a smile while his hand was slowly making love to Sherlock, or _he_ to his hand. _He_? _Definitely_. _Despite_-

"John-," the moan was nearly inaudible. _Stairs. Second landing_. _One minute._

"You. Like. That," the doctor stated between rasped breaths, tightening the grip on the slim buttocks. Sherlock purred and struggled against losing control of himself completely. John's skin was hot and he felt the heat radiating against his own pale flesh. Nobody had ever done this to him, and he wished it would never end.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Sh_-" John swallowed the word when Sherlock heaved a satiated groan before he kissed him again and slid a hand into his boxers and – _oh, God_, John tried to think and wished to never think again at the same time. He clawed at the slender man's back and moaned when Sherlock tipped him over the edge humming, "Say my name," and so John did.

"Well now _this_ is a turn-out," a surprised Mycroft Holmes said, "I believe it's what one might call a conclusive alibi."

Sherlock looked up, pupils dilated, lips, swollen from kissing, pouting while John let his head sink back and wished he was dead.

"_Alibi_?" Sherlock mouthed, "What would I need an alibi for?"

Mycroft's eyes narrowed and he looked at the discarded clothes, "Never mind, I believe you have been – _occupied_." He smirked at John and then at his brother.

"Quite right," Sherlock sat up next to the spent John and put a hand on the other man's chest, "Now. If you don't mind. I'd rather. You take. Your minions. Elsewhere."

Mycroft huffed and sneered a nasty "Well, isn't this nice" before he left beckoning his men to follow. Sherlock listened and then leaned into John giggling, "You're good at this. That was really convincing."

"What?"

"Without you I couldn't have made my point _quite so clear_."

John stared disbelievingly and asked what point exactly that was. Sherlock laughed, "I had to make my brother believe that at a particular time this afternoon which is of great matter to him I was rather busy and therefore innocent of whatever he accused me of."

"Innocent!"

"Well, more or less."

"So, what is _this_ then? _**We**_ – are _we_?"

"_A conclusive alibi_?"

John sat up and stared, "You _hit _on me for an _alibi_?"

Sherlock grinned, "After I struggled up from under _you_!"

"_You_ ripped my _clothes_ off."

"Yeah, well, you were going too slowly."

"You _forced_ yourself onto me!"

"It was _imperative_. You wouldn't have come screaming my name if I'd just _asked_ you to."

"So you didn't mean any of it?"

Sherlock gulped and felt panic rise in his chest. This was getting out of hand. He had quite liked touching John, kissing him, let alone being touched back and feeling so intimately close to him but he was unable to tell him. So he just stared and then John's fist connected with his upper lip. He fell back and tasted blood but did not try to avoid the other blows. After all, John had every right to. One caught his right eye, another one his cheekbone, several more turned the soft flesh of his lips into a bleeding mess, and a terrible snap told him that the damage would not only be external. All the while John kept calling him _Bastard_. _Bloody Bastard_. _Selfish Prig_.

"_Boys_?" Mrs. Hudson innocently asked the broad shoulders of John who was straddling Sherlock, hiding him from the landlady's sight.

"Ewwything's awight, Mitheth Hudthon, all part othe game," Sherlock spluttered as dignified as he could, gaining a surprised, "What game, Sherlock?"

"_**Mitheth Hudthon**_!"

"_Oh_! Blushing, the elderly lady turned and left, quietly closing the door behind her. John climbed off Sherlock failing to suppress a fit of laughter. An instant later Sherlock joined in wiping his abused mouth. His hand came away bloodied and he groaned, testing his teeth with his tongue and soon producing a clicking sound that drew another groan from him. John watched and apologized at which the young man shrugged and laughed, "I gueff firth timeth could be worth'an 'is." John shared his joke, then asked, "You _guess_?"


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock coughed, "Would hardly be a firth if I had referenth pointh." John smiled at the otherwise articulate man's unintended speech impairment. He looked at Sherlock, took in the swellings and bruises on the accustomed face, the blood on his mouth, and could not help finding the man _cute_. Sherlock fumbled his bruises and felt for the damage to his lips, and John had to look away when the other man fingered his bleeding maxilla.

"And you're not even attracted to me," John said in a close to regretful tone.

"I didn't fay vet," Sherlock protested and forced himself not to look at John who quoted his very words, spoken in an overhasty panic over their first dinner together. Sherlock cursed himself for building walls so high and thick around himself. _Married to his work_. He _**was**_. _And still_-

"So you like _men_?" John continued.

"I like _you_," Sherlock replied without impediment.

John nodded. Sherlock looked sad and lost, "_John_? – I'm. _Sorry_. I did…I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's _fine_, _I guess_," John heard himself say patting Sherlock's leg absentmindedly, "It's all. _Fine_," John removed his hand and gulped, unsure how to continue.

"Does that make you gay?"

Sherlock laughed, "Hardly." John nodded. With Sherlock, things had to be more complicated, of course.

"Do you want an ice-pack?" Sherlock glared and held out his hand, one broken and one removed tooth sitting in the palm. Then he smiled, "Thif is furphrivingly – _not dull_." John agreed, "You bit me."

"_You thcratched_!" The lanky man rolled to his side to show John the bleeding marks.

"Your own fault," John declared, and Sherlock nodded resting his head and remaining in fetal position. John motioned to get up but was kept back by a shaky, "_J-John_?" followed by the husky plea to stay, "_Will you_?"

John wondered at the invitation but had no desire to bump into Mrs. Hudson again, so he snuggled up behind Sherlock and even put a protective arm around the thin waist, "That what you want?"

"Hmm," was the answer he got from the half-asleep man.


	4. Chapter 4

When Sherlock woke, he found himself facing John whose arm still rested on Sherlock's side. He smiled and watched John sleep. His breath was even; his nose kept twitching at irregular intervals. Sherlock genuinely liked John. The doctor was sensitive, reliable, funny, grounded, self-confident_. A good man_. He was everything that Sherlock was not. He felt a wave of panic wash over him. What if John had only let him stay because he felt guilty about hitting him? What if he hated him for what he had done? What if he hated him for what he _was_?

"Shut up," John mumbled and Sherlock frowned. He had not said anything.

"You're thinking. It's annoying."

"That's _my_ line," Sherlock protested half-heartedly. John was joking. _With him. In bed_. His hand still on Sherlock's side.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be," John said.

"But last night-" the detective began and felt lost for words. _You made me bleed. You beat me black and blue. You wanted to kill me_. They all sounded horribly dramatic.

"I was angry! You – caught me off guard. I didn't expect you to-" _Be this way_. _Have feelings. For me. To have desire. To taste so nice. To kiss so well_. They all sounded terribly maudlin.

"I _do_. Have feelings. I-" John opened his eyes and Sherlock stopped mid-sentence. He almost saw the other man's thoughts. _Poor man_! _What have I done_? Sherlock knew he must be a sorry sight. His eye and lip were swollen. There probably were black marks by now as well. He sneered, immediately realizing that the sneer did his cut lip no good.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm sorry, "John said and Sherlock nodded. He had had every reason to be angry. The bruises would heal.

"I. _Do_ have a heart," Sherlock declared almost defiantly. He had to tell John.

"Never doubted that," the doctor replied.

"You _didn't_?"

John shook his head.

"I like you," Sherlock resumed, "_A lot_."

"I gathered as much," John smiled and Sherlock was glad the other man's hand was still on his side.

"I meant what I said. _Last night_. Nobody has ever touched me. Not _like this_," Sherlock felt John's had stir, "_No_! It's fine. _With you_. Nobody's ever let me sleep in their bed either. I just avoided the whole business after-," John's gaze seemed to ask for a reason for Sherlock's inexperience, "Things always went wrong. I tried. _So hard_. I got laughed at. Which was. _Not good_. I also got shouted at. Beaten up. _Badly_."

"Why would they want to do that?"

"Because they didn't. I. Didn't-" he couldn't say it.

"You didn't tell them."

"No."

"That was not very clever," John mused and Sherlock shot him a dark glance but had to agree.

"And _I_ beat you, too," realization dawned on John.

"But at least you waited until I got off," Sherlock remarked with a dry smile.

"God, Sherlock, you don't think that's because of. _That_. I was angry. I wouldn't hit you for what you _are_. I hit you for what you _did_!"

"I know."

Both fell silent, lost in their thoughts. Then Sherlock asked, "You don't mind me being. _Different_?"

John shrugged, "Would actually make things a lot easier."

Sherlock stared.

"I. Don't think I could be in a relationship with a. Man." There was an ever so hesitant pause before the last word.

"I'm a _man_!" Sherlock protested.

"You know what I mean," John sighed. He did not want to fight. And he had not wanted to insult Sherlock. He could not half imagine what life must be like for the other one.

"No. I don't," Sherlock could be stubborn.

"Right, well. It's the physical side if you must know. I always thought you were attractive. I just couldn't imagine. Wanking you."

"You just did."

"_Sherlock_! You're being unhelpfully difficult!"

"_Am I_? You just said I was making things easier."

"Easier because there's only one cock involved."

"Oh!"

"I'm glad we. _Did this_. And I'm also glad about-"

"Me being cock-less," there was mock in Sherlock's voice, "You know, so far the fact hasn't exactly made people around me happy. I sometimes don't get you."

"Trust me, most of the time it's me who don't get _you_!"

"As a medical man, you must find me twice exciting."

"Spoke the hermaphrodite."

"You could study me," Sherlock offered, "Examine. Explore. Experiment." Each word sounded more obscene.

"You know what?" John leaned into the other man and smiled, "I think I will."


End file.
